


Feel the Pull

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Fall Away [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Butt Plugs, D/s AU, Daddy Kink, Dry Humping, Feminization, High Heels, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Panty Kink, Poly V, Polyamory, Sex Toys, Skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Connor likes things that he shouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel the Pull

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: no negotiations take place, though the scene is between two people that have played before and it's implied that they have some set of limits/allowances established between them. Close to the beginning of the scene, though, they discuss the limits related to Connor's kink.
> 
> This also involves accidental kink discovery - someone finds out about Connor's kink when he explicitly does not want to show anyone for fear of being judged, though he does then consent to sexual activity and his kink being involved in this scene.
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

Sometimes, Connor likes things that he shouldn’t.

It’s strange, when he realizes that, because he does everything else the way it’s supposed to be done.  He acts like a sub should, he plays hockey like a hockey player should, he dresses like a man should.  It’s ingrained in him.  He knows exactly what’s expected of him at any moment in time, and he can deliver it, with the same awkward smile that Dylan makes fun of him for.

But sometimes – sometimes he lets himself be what he shouldn’t.

He keeps a bag locked up in his closet, an actual, honest to God padlock holding the zipper shut.  Hallsy and Gazy probably assume they’re restraints or canes or floggers or whips.

But when the two of them are out for the night, and he has the house to himself, he pulls the bag out onto his bed, and opens it.

Gazzy and Hallsy are out to dinner with some of the team, and they’re planning to hit a bar or two after that.  Connor had bowed out, saying the pain killers for his shoulder had made him tired.  Hallsy had looked a little suspicious, but he’d let it go.  Connor’s thankful for that.

He’s got something of a collection now.  Three dresses – flouncy and frilly and beautiful; two skirts – one plaid, the other tulle; two blouses – one plain white and another a soft pink; a pair of chunky black heels – the only ones he trusted himself to wear without turning an ankle; four sets of panties, a garter belt, two pairs of stockings, two babydolls; a makeup box.

He likes to be _pretty_ , sometimes, just for himself.  He hasn’t shown anyone.  Not even Dylan, not even when Dylan showed him what he and Marns do together.

Dylan wouldn’t understand.  He would pretend to, and maybe he’d think he did, but he wouldn’t.

But he has a few hours to himself.  He pulls out the makeup box and stands in front of his mirror, carefully applying foundation and blush and eyeshadow and eyeliner and mascara.  He looks over his lipstick assortment – reds and pinks and berries – and settles on a soft petal pink, not far from his actual lip color.

He strips out of his sweatpants and t-shirt and boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

With gentle fingers, he selects a pair of soft, silky, pale blue panties, with a band of lace at the top.  They fit snugly, but he likes how they look like that.

Connor stands in front of the mirror for a minute, eyes catching on the pink of his lips, his cheeks, the soft bulge of his cock in the panties.

He feels warm – it’s different from arousal, a little bit.  He feels safe, mostly, comforted.  But the potential is always there.

Carefully, he pulls out the nude stockings and rolls them up his legs, bunching them around his ankles and gently working them up his calves and his thighs.  He takes the garter belt next, a simple black lace thing, and fits it around his waist, hooking it together at the small of his back.  He clips the stockings to it, taking a couple steps to make sure everything’s secure, that the belt won’t come undone and his stockings won’t roll down.

He decides to go for a babydoll today, instead of a dress or a skirt and shirt.  He wants to look at himself in the mirror and look pretty, desirable, sensual.  In a dress, he mostly looks cute.  That’s not quite what he wants, tonight.

There’s one that’s soft white, black lace around the bottom, blue ribbon tying the cups of it shut.  It’s meant for a woman’s frame, so it falls loose around his hips, the bottom hitting him just barely past the line of his panties.  He fits the top well enough, with how wide his chest is, and the pectorals he has that haven’t completely melted while he’s been injured.

He toes into the heels, buckling the strap around his ankle and taking a few careful steps around the room.  It always takes him a moment to get his bearings in heels.

Looking at himself in the mirror makes his breath catch.  He runs his hand down the thin, see-through fabric covering his stomach and shudders.  The buds of his nipples peek out through the slit in the cups, just above the bows holding each cup shut.  He can’t believe that’s him in the mirror, he looks _good_ , he looks like the girls in the magazine he and Dylan had found in Ryan’s room a few summers ago.

“Connor?” he hears through the door.  He freezes, eyes wide and panicked in the mirror.  Was he really so absorbed in getting dressed and everything that he had missed someone coming in the front door and all the way up the stairs?  “Connor, are you in there?”

It’s Ference.  _Shit_.

They’ve been playing together, off and on, since Connor got to training camp.  It makes sense, to have the experienced Dom take care of the rookie sub.  It just makes it better that Ferknuckle takes care of Connor like he needs, holds him down and forces him over the edge, and Connor can give Ferknuckle what he needs, too.

“Connor, Hallsy said you were home.  If you don’t open the door yourself, I’m coming in.”

“One second,” Connor yelps, trying to shove his clothes and makeup back into the bag.

“I’m coming in,” Ferknuckle announces, and Connor hears the door open.  He’s got his back turned to the doorway, so he can’t see Andrew’s face, but he can hear the sharp gasp.

“Please leave,” Connor whispers, his hands shaking.

“Do you really want me to?” Andrew’s voice is low, gravelly.  “You’re all dressed up like you were waiting for someone.”

Connor’s cheeks flare red.  He swallows nervously.  “I… It’s for me.  I wasn’t planning on anyone being home.”

“Taylor said he thought you were lying about the painkillers making you tired.”  Andrew steps closer.  “I volunteered to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Connor says.  “Please…”

Andrew moves closer, putting a hand on the small of Connor’s back, just above the closure of his garter belt.  He can feel the heat of his hand through the babydoll, the weight of it, and he shivers.

“Do you really want me to leave?” Andrew rumbles in his ear.

“N-no,” Connor whispers.

Andrew turns him carefully, hands on his hips, until Connor’s facing him.  Connor stares at Andrew’s chest, his t-shirt stretched across his muscles and coat hanging open.  Connor can’t look up at his face, not until Andrew cups Connor’s chin and tilts his face up.

“Makeup?” He murmurs, running his thumb over Connor’s bottom lip, lipstick smearing over his thumb.  “You look…”

“I know, it’s not—”

“You look _beautiful_ ,” Andrew says fervently, and Connor finally meets his eyes.  Andrew looks _hungry_ , like he wants to devour Connor, take him apart and put him back together again.  He can’t believe it.  It’s how he always dreamed someone would look at him, when he allowed himself to dream about showing all this to someone.

“Really?” Connor whispers.

“Of course,” Andrew replies, and kisses him.  Connor moans into his mouth, reaching out and clenching his fingers in Andrew’s shirt.  Andrew’s not holding back, kissing him hard, slipping his tongue past Connor’s lips and dominating his mouth.

“Fuck,” Andrew groans when he pulls back, his lips smeared pink.  Connor stares at him wide-eyed, until Andrew ducks down to suck a mark on his throat, and Connor’s eyes fall shut.  Connor presses close to him, Andrew sliding an arm around Connor’s waist to keep him there.

He doesn’t know what Andrew wants to do with him.  It’s different each time – or at least, it’s been different every time they’ve played together.

And he loves being with Dylan, loves Dylan, but there are some things he can’t always get from Dylan.  Dylan doesn’t like being mean, but sometimes, Connor doesn’t want _nice_.  He wants a Dom who knows what he wants and takes it, without hesitation.

“Gonna let Daddy play with your tits?”  Andrew growls, thumb scrapping over Connor’s nipple, peeking out of the sheer fabric.

Connor gasps and arches against him.  He’s – yeah, he wears women’s clothes, but he’s never thought of himself as having a woman’s body.  He’s always been so aware of how the clothes hang loose in some places and stretch tight in others.  It’s…

“Please, Daddy,” he whimpers.

Andrew groans and pushes Connor down onto the bed.  “Shit, Connor.”

Connor spreads out on the bed, his leg knocking into the still-open bag.  Andrew glances into it, then shoves it off the bed.

“You’re going to model all of those for me,” Andrew says, crawling over Connor.

“Yes, Daddy,” Connor murmurs, staring up at him.

Andrew kisses him again, arms braced on either side of Connor’s head.  He’s settled fully on top of Connor, weight pressing him down into the bed.  Connor loves this, being so totally enveloped by someone else.  He can never get enough.

“Always thought you’d look so pretty,” Andrew mutters, running his hand through Connor’s hair.

“You thought about it?” Connor asks.

“Of course.”  Andrew kisses him again, softly.  “You’re so pretty already, big eyes and pink lips that just beg for a cock between them.  How could I not think about it?”

“I always thought it was…” Connor doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.  Weird.  Unnatural.  Disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” Andrew whispers, and trails kisses down Connor’s neck.  “What do you want, Connor?  I don’t know how far you want this to go, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Connor’s heart feels full.  “I’m not a girl,” he starts.  “I’m still a guy, I – I just wear this stuff.”

“Got it,” Andrew murmurs, fingering finding Connor’s nipple.  Connor moans loudly, shifting on the bed.  “Gonna mess up your panties for Daddy?”

“If you keep doing that I will,” Connor groans, grabbing hold of Andrew’s shoulders.  Andrew’s so strong above him, firm, and Connor’s like that, too, and so is Dylan, but it’s different when Andrew’s so broad and heavy.

“I’ll make you come twice,” Andrew says.  He always does this – likes to tell Connor exactly what he’s going to do, how he’s going to take Connor apart and remake him.  “Once in everything you’re wearing – I want to see you get all dirty.”

“Daddy,” Connor whines, throwing his head back against the bed.  “Daddy, come on.”

“You gotta be patient, baby,” Andrew scolds, smacking Connor’s thigh.

“Yes, Daddy.”  Connor spreads his legs, the babydoll fluttering up around his hips.  The lace at the edge of it scrapes against his oversensitive skin.

“Want something to rub against?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Connor pleads, spreading his legs wider and bracing his heels against the bed.  He hasn’t really jerked off in these clothes before; it’s hard to get them clean, when he and Gazzy and Hallsy usually throw all their stuff in together.  He hasn’t wanted to risk it.

Andrew presses his hand to Connor’s cock, curling his fingers around him, with the barrier of the panties still between them.  They’re slick and silky against his cock, rubbing in a tantalizing slide against him.

“Daddy,” Connor moans, rocking against his hand.

He catches Andrew’s grin through his half-open eyes, how sharp it gets as Andrew uses his other hand to untie the ribbon holding the cup of the babydoll shut.

“Perfect,” Andrew hisses.  “Chose one that lets Daddy get to every bit of you without having to take it off.”

Connor bites his lip and arches up when Andrew laves his tongue over his nipple.  He sucks, hard, and makes Connor jolt against the bed.

“Daddy,” Connor moans, rocking against Andrew’s hand.  “Daddy, Daddy, I’m gonna come.”

“Of course you are, baby,” Andrew murmurs against his chest.  “Daddy knows just how to take care of you.”

“Can I come?” Connor asks, starting to tremble.  He fists his hands in the shoulders of Andrew’s shirt, not able to do anything else but hold on and buck up against him.

“Yeah, come in your pretty little panties for Daddy,” Andrew growls, pressing his hand more firmly down on Connor’s cock.

He cries out and bucks up again, then comes, digging his fingers into Andrew’s shoulders.  His orgasm ricochets through him, leaving him shaking between Andrew’s body and the thick quilt on his bed.

“So beautiful,” Andrew murmurs, littering kisses over Connor’s face and down his neck.  “Fuck.”

“Fuck me,” Connor whines, turning his head to catch Andrew’s lips with his.  “Please, Daddy!”

“Of course, baby,” Andrew says, kissing Connor sweetly.  “Whatever you want, you know that.”

Connor likes it when Andrew’s mean to him; he likes it when he’s kind, too, sappy sweet and indulging Connor in every way.

“But first Daddy wants you to suck his cock with those pink lips, smear your lipstick all over…”

“Yes,” Connor hisses, bucking up against Andrew’s thigh.

Andrew rears back, kneeling up above Connor and throwing his jacket off, tugging his t-shirt off over his head.  Connor’s eyes track over his tattoos; he’s always hoped Andrew would let Connor take some time and trace them with his hands and his tongue, one day.  Now that Andrew knows this about him, his soul stripped and laid bare in panties and heels, he could ask.  It’s not like Andrew could judge him for that if he won’t judge him for this.

“Please,” Connor moans, pulling at the waistband of Andrew’s jeans.  Usually he tries not to be so desperate, but he can’t even start to stop himself, when the fog of subspace is creeping over his mind.

“Yeah, baby,” Andrew murmurs, undoing his fly and shoving his jeans and briefs down in one move.  Connor scrabbles at Andrew’s hips, trying to pull him closer, up so he can thrust into Connor’s mouth.  Andrew moves with him, but Connor knows Andrew wouldn’t let him pull him in if he didn’t want to go.

Andrew fists his cock, stroking it barely an inch from Connor’s mouth.  He whines, trying to push forward, get his tongue on the drop of precome beading at the head of Andrew’s cock.

“Shhhh,” Andrew reassures him.  “I’ll give you what you need, baby.”

Connor nearly cries when Andrew grips his cock and thrusts into his mouth.  It’s a stretch, it’s always a stretch, with how thick Andrew’s cock is, but he _loves_ it.  He keeps his mouth open wide, tucking his teeth up as well as he can so he doesn’t scrape Andrew’s cock.

Andrew’s the one that taught him how to deepthroat (a trick that Dylan had enjoyed _very much_ ), so it’s not difficult to crane forward and relax his throat, letting Andrew’s cock slip in further.

Andrew groans above him, fingers tracing over Connor’s chin, his cheek, his lips.  Connor pulls back a bit, to suck in a breath through his nose, and then take Andrew’s cock back into his throat.

“Look so good,” Andrew groans, thrusting a little into Connor’s mouth.  Connor moans around him and holds still, letting Andrew pump into his mouth at a leisurely pace.  “You know just what Daddy likes.”

Connor’s filled with pride; he focuses on opening his throat, on the weight of Andrew’s cock on his tongue, on how his own cock is thickening again in the slick mess of his panties.  _Fuck_.  Connor wants Andrew inside him so bad, thrusting into his ass, filling him up and drilling into his prostate, bending him in half and holding him down.

Andrew knows – he always knows.  He pulls back, his cock slipping from Connor’s mouth.  Andrew stares at him for a moment, and Connor wonders what he sees.  He’s sure the makeup around his eyes is smudged, his lipstick all over his face.  But Andrew looks at him like he never wants to look away.

“Ready for Daddy to finger you open?” Andrew asks, thumb pressing at the center of Connor’s bottom lip.

Connor flushes bright red.  “This morning, I…”

Andrew grins.  “You were touching yourself this morning?  Thrusting your fingers in?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Connor whispers.

“Did you use any of your toys?” Andrew leans down and presses his lips to the point of Connor’s chin.

“The – the blue one.”  Connor knows Andrew will remember which one it is.  It’s the thickest one he owns, a congratulations-on-making-the-team present from Dylan.  There’s bumps along the length, and it vibrates.  Andrew’s used it on him more times than he can count.

Andrew kisses him.  Connor lets Andrew’s tongue sweep into his mouth, Andrew’s fingers plucking at his nipple again.  He arches up against Andrew, his cock brushing against Andrew’s thigh in his wet panties, hoping Andrew will see how desperate he is.

“Do I need to stretch you out again?” Andrew asks, grabbing the lube Connor had left out on his nightstand.  He slicks his fingers, reaches down, and pulls Connor’s panties to the side so he can press his fingers to Connor’s entrance.  Connor keens when Andrew slides two fingers in, right off the bat.  “Hmm, you’re so open from fucking yourself.”

“Please, Daddy,” Connor begs, tears sliding down his face.   Andrew’s fingers are thick, so much thicker than Connor’s, and clever, knowing exactly where to press to send jolts of ecstasy through him.  He’s already come once with Andrew, twice in the morning by himself, but he’s hurtling towards number four.  “Daddy, fuck me, please!”

“Just a little bit more, baby,” Andrew croons, thrusting a third finger in.  Connor spreads his legs and bucks back against Andrew’s hand, wanting more of _something_.

Connor knows better than to come before he’s allowed to.  It doesn’t mean it’s not hard, though.

“Please,” he gasps, when Andrew’s fingers find his prostate.  “Daddy—“

 _Finally_ , Andrew tugs his fingers out and grabs the lube again, slicking his cock.  Andrew guides Connor’s legs up over his shoulder, bending him in half when he presses in close, pulling the panties to the side again and thrusting into him slowly.

Connor’s hands scrabble at the quilt on his bed, trying to get some sort of grip, something to ground him, but not able to find it.  He just bucks back against the burn of Andrew’s cock entering him and lets the pleasure wash over him.

“Fuck,” Andrew hisses.  “So tight, baby.  Perfect for Daddy’s thick cock.”

Connor moans, head falling back on the pillow.  “Just for you, Daddy.”

Andrew leans down, forcing Connor’s knees almost to his chest, so his face is a few inches from Connor’s.  “Fuck you open and loose, so you can go and show everyone how well Daddy takes care of you.”

“Daddy,” Connor whimpers, toes curling in his heels.  With a grunt, Andrew pulls out and thrusts back in, hips slapping against Connor’s ass, Connor’s stocking-covered legs sliding over Andrew’s shoulders.

“Maybe Daddy can fuck you in front of them, so they can see for themselves.”

Even with the haze he’s floating in, Connor can’t help but picture it – picture Dylan sitting in the chair in the corner of Connor’s room, tied up, maybe, watching Andrew fuck Connor like this.  And when Andrew thrusts in again, he thinks of Dylan spread out next to him, on top of him, Andrew fucking both of them in turns, his fingers in whoever’s empty.

“Fuck,” Connor whines, bucking up against him.  “Daddy, I wanna come…”

“Not yet, baby,” Andrew pants, grabbing Connor’s hips in a bruising grip and thrusting in harder, faster.  Connor jerks under him and moans loudly, squirming every time Andrew gets _so close_ to his prostate and just barely skates over it.  Finally, with a grin Connor can barely see through his tear-blurred vision, Andrew shifts and thrusts straight into Connor’s prostate.

Connor screams, back bowing, hands flying up to clench around Andrew’s biceps.  He can’t relax back onto the bed when Andrew keeps thrusting into him, hitting that perfect spot, sending shockwaves through him.

“Daddy!” Connor yelps, holding on tight as Andrew hammers into him.

“You need to come?” Andrew asks, thrusting as hard as he can into Connor.  “Need to come on Daddy’s cock, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Come,” Andrew grunts, and thrusts in again.

Connor can’t hold it back any longer – he was on the brink already, for so long, that he can’t possibly stop himself from coming once he has permission.  He clenches down on Andrew’s cock, his entire body seizing up under Andrew.

And then he slumps, legs loose on Andrew’s shoulders, arms flopping up over his head, completely wrecked.

But Andrew hasn’t finished yet.  He’s still thrusting into him, sending Connor sliding, little by little, up the bed.

“Tighten up for Daddy,” Andrew groans, his rhythm faltering a little.  “You want Daddy to come in you, right, baby?”

“Yeah,” Connor breathes, using the last of his energy to clench down on Andrew’s cock.  He shivers at how huge Andrew feels, now, and then more when Andrew finally comes in him.

Andrew waits a moment, shoulders shaking under Connor’s legs, before pulling out slowly.

Connor whimpers when Andrew slips out of him, feeling so intensely empty.

“Shh,” Andrew soothes, cupping Connor’s cheek.  “I know, it’s a lot.”

“‘m empty,” Connor manages, trying to hold onto Andrew when he starts to move away.

“Do you want a plug?” Andrew asks, tucking Connor’s hair behind his ear.

Connor nods, letting Andrew slip away after a quick kiss, to dig one out from the bottom drawer of his nightstand.  It’s an anchor plug Andrew picks, that you squeeze together to slide in, and then the two arms come apart and hold it firm inside him, even when he’s as fucked open as he is now.

Andrew shoulders his way between Connor’s thighs and pulls his panties to the side again, squeezing the arms of it together so he can slide it into Connor.  It doesn’t stretch at all going in, and Connor only feels it spreading him open enough, once it’s in, that he knows it won’t come out until he wants it to.

“I’m going to have to go get you something to eat,” Andrew says, smoothing his hand down Connor’s bare thigh, to the top of his stockings.  “Just down to the kitchen, and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Connor whispers.

“What do you want to eat, baby?”

“Sandwich,” Connor says.  “There’re some in the fridge, Daddy.”

“I’ll be right back,” Andrew says again, and then he’s hitching his pants up to his waist and he’s gone.

Connor floats, eyes half-closed, on the bed.  He wants to get up and start cleaning up, start taking off his clothes, but he can’t muster the energy to move.  Andrew will help him, when he gets back.

He’s back sooner than Connor expected – or maybe Connor just lost track of time.  He has a plate with a couple sandwiches and a bottle of Gatorade in his other hand.  He’s still shirtless, jeans open and barely clinging to his hips.  It makes Connor wish he could get it up again, but even nineteen year olds have a refractory period after four orgasms.

“Ham and cheddar,” Andrew says, putting the plate on the nightstand so he can curl up on the bed around Connor.  Connor lets Andrew arrange him how he wants, knowing it’ll be the perfect position for both of them.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Connor murmurs, tilting his face up so Andrew can feed him a sandwich.  Andrew smiles and kisses Connor’s forehead while he’s chewing.

“Of course, baby.  You know I love to take care of you.”

Connor flushes, pressing close to Andrew.

“I would like you to wear the rest of those clothes for me,” Andrew says.  “Not now.”

“Okay,” Connor says quietly.  “You’re really… you’re not just humoring me?”

“Of course not,” Andrew says, petting Connor’s hair back from his face.  “You like it, and it makes you look so beautiful and sexy, Connor, of _course_ I like it.”

“Okay,” Connor replies, face flaming.

“And whoever it is you’re so nervous to show it to, I bet they’d like it, too.”

“I’m not—” Connor tries to protest, but Andrew just raises an eyebrow.  “Okay.”

“Eat some more,” Andrew says, dropping the subject.  “I want to make sure you won’t drop.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

.oOo.

 

“You have to promise not to laugh,” Connor says, sitting on his bed and skyping Dylan.  He’s got his camera turned off – for now.

“Davo, I only laugh at you when you do something really, really fucking stupid,” Dylan assures him.  Connor tries to laugh, but he’s too nervous.  “Whatever it is, you can show me.  You found out I call Marns _Daddy_ , Connor.  I can’t make fun of you for anything.”  Dylan looks earnest, sincere, and that’s what gets Connor to finally work up the nerve.

“Okay,” Connor replies, and gets up, putting his computer on the bed and angling the screen up.  He’d tested out angles, earlier, after he got dressed, to make sure Dylan would get a good view.  “I’m turning it on, now.”

And he turns his webcam on, then stands up straight.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Dylan yelps, his face getting too close to the webcam, like he’s trying to pick out every detail of Connor’s outfit.  “Connor—“

Connor’s wearing a new set of blue panties, after he’d had to throw out the ones Andrew had ruined, and a new white garter belt.  Andrew had _really liked_ helping Connor shop for some new things, to flesh out his wardrobe.  The stockings are the same ones he’s always had, though, and he’s wearing the heels, too.  He’s got smokey eyeshadow on, and pale pink lipstick.

The finishing touch is a new babydoll – another pick from Andrew – with glittering lace cups, a ribbon at the waist, and a mesh skirt fluttering in uneven layers around his hips.

He’d modeled them for Andrew, of course, but Andrew’s hot gaze is somehow different from the surprised, and surprisingly aroused, look on Dylan’s face.

“Do you like it?” Connor asks, sweeping his hand through the skirt of the babydoll.

“Fuck yeah,” Dylan says raggedly.  Connor can hear him swallow through his laptop’s speakers.  “Holy shit, is this like, some new thing in Edmonton, or…?”

“I’ve, uh…” Connor clears his throat.  “I’ve always liked it I just never…”

“You were worried about what I’d say?” Dylan asks, looking a little hurt.

“I was worried about what _anyone_ would say,” Connor replies.  He grabs his laptop and sits on the bed, propping it up on a pillow in front of him.  “I wanted to show you, Dyls, I just didn’t want to scare you off.”

“I love you,” Dylan tells him.  Connor smiles.  “I wish I was there so I could kiss you.”

“Love you, too,” Connor says with a blush, worrying at the hem of his babydoll.

“Does anyone else know?”  Dylan asks, after a moment.  Connor doesn’t chirp him about being possessive; Dylan is remarkably non-possessive of Connor, for how long they’ve been playing and the intensity of their feelings for each other.

“Ferknuckle,” Connor says.  “He, uh, found me all dressed up a few weeks ago.  He… really liked it.”  Connor looks down at his outfit.  “He picked out some of these, said I should wear them for you.”

“So it’s just because he said to, that you’re showing me?”

“No!” Connor curses himself, for not realizing how that could sound.  “Dylan, I wanted to.  It was for confidence?  It wasn’t something I picked out, without knowing how it would look, it was him helping me find the perfect thing for you.”

“Okay, Connor,” Dylan soothes him.  “I know, I just…”

“It’s weird.”

“No,” Dylan says, surprisingly harsh.  “No, Connor, nothing you like is weird.”

Connor blushes and smiles, wishing he and Dylan were together, so he could cuddle up against him, feel Dylan’s arms tight around him.

“I love you,” Connor says.

“I love you, too,” Dylan replies.  “And you look fucking _hot_.”

“Wanna watch me get off?” Connor asks, looking at the webcam from under his eyelashes.

“Fuck yes,” Dylan says fervently, his laptop jostling as he lunges out of sight for headphones.  “Davo, _fuck_.”

Connor grins and waits until he can see Dylan again, then flips his skirt up.  The sound Dylan makes is unholy.

Connor can’t wait to show him everything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks @ Schizzar for pushing me at the end so I would FINALLY finish this.
> 
> join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes.tumblr.com


End file.
